Page 83 of Three Pucking Words
I don’t add that last part.
But damn am I picturing it.
Just like I’m picturing her naked in my shower…and in multiple positions around my house. And my mind also conjures what she’ll look like in my clothes, which is almost as dangerous as imaging her naked. I want to know what she feels like around my cock. What she’ll taste like on my tongue.
I fucking need to know.
My fists clench and unclench.
Christ, I’m horny.
Honor closes her eyes and nods. “You’re probably right,” she agrees. I see her throat bob, as if she’s struggling with this too. “I just… It means a lot. What you said.”
When she opens her eyes, the glaze is still there, but the lust has eased enough for at least one of us to see reason.
“I thought about motherhood since I was a kid,” she admits, nibbling her bottom lip into her mouth. “I wanted to prove to myself that I could be a better one than my own mom. It was sort of a petty reason, I guess. But it never really dwindled. When I got married, I thought there was a chance it would happen. Once we were settled. Once we were a little older. I’m glad it didn’t.Divorces when kids are involved is…” She shakes her head. “It’s not good. So, I’m grateful I didn’t have to add that chaos to my already messed-up life. In fact, things got so muddled with Max and I that I stopped thinking about kids altogether. But never stopped wondering if I would be a good parent. If I could provide them with the kind of security that I lacked. So you telling me that I can…”
Her words trail off, and she closes her eyes. I can tell there’s more, so I brush fallen hair away from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “Talk to me, Honor.”
It feels like a lot longer than a few seconds before she speaks. “Lately, I’ve been thinking about kids again. And how I want that life. I want to be the best person possible for my family.”
I stare at her, feeling something deep within me stretch out and wrap around her. An invisible force that ties us together. It’s strong. Impenetrable. If I thought I had it bad for this girl before, it doesn’t compare to now.
“What do you think changed that?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to hear her say,“you”.
But she doesn’t.
She doesn’t say anything.
She doesn’t need to.
Her eyes drift to me, then to the direction of the living where my six-year-old is sleeping peacefully under a knit blanket that my mother made for her. It’s purple and frilly, and doesn’t match anything in my living room, but Gemma loves it. She won’t sit on the couch and watch a movie without it draped over her lap.
Honor may not give me a straight answer, but I know what it is regardless.
“Fuck it,” I breathe out, claiming her mouth again and trailing my hands over the curves of her torso and hips. The soft,fleshy feeling under my fingertips feels right as her mouth parts to make room for my tongue to explore her.
Her hips arch into me, brushing against the bulge that I can no longer hide. I bite back my groan as she grinds into me, and I decide to give her a taste of her own medicine.
When I move away, she makes a sound of protest that makes me grin. But it’s quickly replaced by a wistful inhale as my fingers find the button of her jeans and pop it open before I slide the zipper down. “Okay?” I ask.
Her throat bobs, but she eventually offers me a silent, shaky nod.
“I need to hear you say it, honey,” I tell her, letting my knuckles graze her core over the denim until she’s squirming against the wall. “I need you to tell me that it’s okay for me to touch your cunt. Say yes. One fucking word, Honor, and it’s yours.”
Her eyes widen. “Y-Yes. You can.”
My eyebrows go up. “I can what, Honor?”
She exhales slowly, wiggling against me for friction, for anything to give her relief. “You can touch my cunt. I want you to.Please.”
I grin at her breathy plea before my hands slides into the hem of her jeans and beneath her panties. The cotton is soaked as my fingertips dance along the seam of her lips. Her thighs clench around me, trapping my palm against her warmth. “Did you change you mind?” I ask, brushing my lips against her jaw. They trail down to the crook of her neck, nipping once above the pulse and causing her hips to thrust and bring my fingers even closer to her entrance.
“No,” she whispers, wrapping an arm around my neck and squeezing me against her. “It’s just been a really long time since anyone…” She stops, swallows, and says, “Since anyone other than me has touched me there.”
Jesus fucking Chr—“You have no clue how happy I am to hear that,” I reply against her throat, trying my hardest not to sink my teeth into her skin and leave a mark.
She doesn’t get a chance to ask why before my finger slowly slides inside her as my thumb makes lazy circles around her clit. Each motion is slow and smooth, and her silent open-mouthed moans tell me she loves them as much as I do.
